


The Overlooked Christmas

by Strange_johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, John Watson is a Good Boyfriend, John Watson is a Saint, Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_johnlock
Summary: Focused on a case, they just forgot about Christmas.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 74
Collections: Festive Johnlock Collection





	The Overlooked Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Violet, for beta reading!

“John?“

The doctor looked up from where he was pulling expensive shoes off of long, narrow feet: first the right, then the left.

“What is it, love?” John dropped the shoes to massage a heel for a moment.

“It’s...” Sherlock had his face pressed into the pillow, his voice barely audible. “It’s Christmas tomorrow.”

“It is,” John got up, surprised this was what Sherlock wanted to talk about now. Walking around the bed a bit, he sat on the edge to run his hands through wild hair, still speckled with dots of white paint that were going to be a menace to get out tomorrow.

“We didn’t… get a tree.” Even with his eyes closed and mouth barely moving, John could see the sadness in his features.

“Yeah,” John leaned in to kiss his temple. He wanted to remind Sherlock that he hadn’t really slept for two weeks as they had tried to find an art forger around the city; his mind had been so focused looking at the works of Dalí, Pollard, Van Gogh and so many others, learning every detail of every brushstroke, because he did not trust the experts. He’d barely eaten either, John mused, and still managed to chase the suspect for about twenty minutes by foot, be involved in a fistfight involving a paintbrush and then a discussion on art history, before finally crashing in the cab. Sherlock was not awake enough for something like this, though, so John just whispered, “Next year,” into damp curls.

The detective was already asleep, breathing deeply, face smashed into the pillow.

“My genius.” John looked at him for a while, still in a bit of disbelief that he could do this now, that he could give Sherlock comfort in moments when his body had just had enough. He was tempted to curl up with him, to sleep for sixteen hours straight and wake up with Sherlock mashed against his shoulder, cosy and warm, but there were some things he had to do first.

John collected Sherlock’s shoes, placing them in the hallway. He would not try to clean them, knowing Sherlock always had that done professionally.

He stepped into the kitchen, covered in printouts and plates of uneaten toast. He collected the paintings in a stack, threw the food away, and did the dishes. His eyes wandered to the living room as he dried the plates off. Nothing here reminded him of Christmas. Mrs. Hudson had left for her sister’s earlier this year, so there were no fairy lights, no Christmas hat on the skull, no cheesy garlands in the windows. And John hadn’t really cared, not when they were finally on a good case again. But Sherlock had seemed really sad about the non-existence of a tree in the flat. And it really was their first Christmas as a couple, too. Maybe he should make an effort at least.

Drying his hands, John glanced at the clock. He’d have ten more hours, at least, before Sherlock would emerge from the bedroom and he knew he could get a bit done in that time. John grabbed his keys and jacket and made his way downstairs and onto the street. Every window but theirs was lit with Christmas lights or had paper stars placed in it. How did they miss all this? How did they forget about Christmas?

John went to Tesco first to restock their fridge and buy the biscuits that Sherlock liked best. He dropped the heavy bags off in the hallway before leaving again in search of a Christmas tree- maybe he would be lucky enough to find one at this last minute. He was not alone. Even though every other person had had at least a month to prepare, the streets were buzzing with panicked people looking for last-minute presents. He tried not to let their stress affect them, but he could feel it seeping into his bones. “For Sherlock,” he reminded himself, as he walked past every supermarket he knew that might sell Nordmann trees on Christmas eve. London seemed to have sworn itself against him, though, and John felt his own tiredness catch up with himself.

Finally, he found an Aldi that still had a few trees, and there was a tall one he liked. It would just fit in the corner of the living room and they could hang it with ornaments and lights and have it fill the room with Christmas spirit. Sherlock would like it. But then John noticed a woman, with a little boy by her side, looking at the same tree. He stepped away and left it for her, picking up a smaller one instead. This one would be easier to carry home under one arm, he told himself.

Getting home, he put the food in the fridge before he went to work on the decorations.

* * *

John woke up with Sherlock’s face nuzzled against his chest, the detective still breathing deeply, and he wrapped his arm just a little it tighter around him, drifting back into sleep for a bit, barely noticing when Sherlock got up, the shower starting a moment later.

The second time he woke was to Sherlock getting back under the duvet, smelling of honey and sage, hair still dripping a bit. He got on top of John, and the doctor smiled as kisses were pressed to his face and jaw, making his skin tingle.

“It’s Christmas, John.” He whispered, and the excitement in his voice reminded him of a little kid. “Actual Christmas.”

“It is.” John opened his eyes, happy to see his partner’s condition improved by a few hours of sleep.Tipping his chin up, he pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s mouth. “Merry Christmas, love.”

“Merry Christmas,” Sherlock sat up, resting his weight on John’s thighs. “Breakfast?”

“Are you telling me you’re hungry?” John teased, letting a hand travel up Sherlock’s side, squeezing his upper arm.

“I haven’t eaten properly in a week, as you’ve pointed out to me on nine different occasions, once even yelling at me to, and I quote, have some fucking toast.”

“Oh yes, I remember that” John smiled. “Let’s go then, you git,” He patted his hip, and Sherlock got up, and wrapped himself in one of his dressing gowns.

“Hurry,” he called, already halfway out of the door, and John did in fact hurry, not wanting to miss his partner’s reaction. The doctor almost crashed into Sherlock as the detective stopped abruptly, and after getting over his initial surprise, he wrapped his arms around the detective’s middle.

“We- have a Christmas tree.” And John would have teased him about that very obvious statement if it wasn’t for the amazement in Sherlock’s voice, the pure joy.

“It’s a bit small,” John whispered into the fabric of Sherlock’s robe, pressing a kiss there. “And scrawny. But I thought it’d be better than nothing. You seemed so disappointed about not having one. And…”

Sherlock whirled around in his arms to kiss him and John’s mouth melted against those perfect, plump lips, and opened to his warm, wet tongue. His eyes drifted closed, as he lost himself in the kiss. “Thank you,” Sherlock whispered, and John just drew their mouths back together. They hadn’t had any of this in two weeks and John had missed it, kissing Sherlock.

“You’re welcome,” John said after they pulled back.

And it didn’t really matter, that they had forgotten to get each other presents, or that their Christmas tree was really thin and ugly, or that it started to rain around noon. They cuddled on the sofa, listening to the pitter-patter against the window, and watched as the wet glass reflected the lights. And when they got hungry again, Sherlock made pasta while John poured them some wine. And when he fell asleep after making love to his Sherlock, John did so with a smile. This Christmas, their first as a couple, felt perfect to them both.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this wasn't planned. I wasn't going to write a Christmas fic this year.  
> But here we are.  
> Merry Christmas, to all who celebrate it <3


End file.
